


Dangerous Illusions

by Evephobia



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Affection, Brotherly Affection, Depression, Exhausting Emotions, Heavy Angst, Heavy Emotions, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jealously, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, Rain, Twitter, Vomiting, crying in the rain, major angst, verbal arguments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-22
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 22:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30079602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evephobia/pseuds/Evephobia
Summary: One thing that may just be the hardest thing to do is watch the person you love the most, fall in love with someone else. For George, this endeavour has become a daily feat in his life. For years, George's heart only beat for one. Dream. And all those years, his heart would ache incessantly at every single pet name, flirt, or lovely words spoken for him. The “him” being Fundy.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Dangerous Illusions

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is all very new for me. Never have I written a fic before, and never have I reached for such an ambitious project, but one lonely night at 10:46 on a Friday night, I clicked on a video in my YouTube recommended. It was simply a video of a slowed down version of 'drivers license' showcasing a distraught George clutching a wedding invitation. To say the least, I broke into tears and ideas bubbled up to the surface and swam around my mind, until I decided to muster up the courage and take these ideas by the neck and use them to create...something. 
> 
> I don't have much writing experience but I hope that I can convey what's in my head, in this work. My expectations for this novel is a small series (for now) that I'll continue to work on until I believe a fitting ending has been reached. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this total train wreck.

It is without a doubt that George is in love with Dream. Only a fool would say otherwise. That same fool may just say that Dream reciprocates these feelings. Anyone with common sense and a pair of eyes and ears will say that Dream is in love with another. And George has plenty of common sense. The day Fundy and Dream got together was the day that George felt his heart shatter. That day was the day he vowed to keep 

It's not often George feels ecstatic, not since Dream and Fundy started dating. The day they got his emotions in check. He promised himself to never allow this type of vulnerability ever again. Of course, he was only lying to himself to ease even the most miniscule amount of the pain. The pain from that day has slowly dwindled down to a bearable burning, lost in the back of his mind. 

George can feel his cheeks burning. A grin that stretched wide across his face had been sitting there for the past hour.

He was practically floating. For the first time in a while, his chest was light and his mind was filled with nothing but joy. 

“DREAM!!” Sapnap's voice fills George's headphones. 

His smile grew impossibly wider as he laughed out to the display on his monitor. He watches as a green figure in full neatherite bounds across a wide expanse of green pixels chasing a less protected figure with dark hair. An equally as maxed out sword in hand, swinging dangerously close to the figure in front of him. A fantastic and hearty wheeze sends chills down George's spine. 

“Oh, Sapnap!” Dream sang in the sweetest sing-song voice possible. “Come’ere!” 

George's heart thumps erratically, his chest feeling impossibly light. He chases close behind the two in front of him, a mix of wheezes and screams encase his ears like a symphony, the same sounds leaking through the walls, as they only sit just rooms apart. A small white building with a disproportionately large purple insignia floating above it loads into their view.

A strained scream is heard as Sapnap jumps over the line of a light grey path forming a great big circle around said building. A loud triumphant scream pierces George's eardrums. 

“Oh my god, Sapnap. Would you shut up.” George yells over the irritating yells.

“Sapnap, you’re such a pussy running to the Holy Land.” Dream says with an audible grin indicating his words are empty. The green figure of Dreams avatar crosses over the line and strikes Sapnap once with his sword, setting him on fire.

The raven gasps in mock surprise. “Did you see that chat?!” Sapnap giggles. 

George's eyes wander to the stream that's pulled up on his second monitor. That chat is spamming mixtures of ‘YES WE DID’ and ‘/KILL’. He looks back to the block game in front of him to see Sapnap still burning and Dream now chasing him with a bucket of water. He sighs affectionately at his friends behavior. 

His mind wanders back to when he was an ocean apart from the others, when their only form of communication was through the uncertainty of internet connection. He leans back in the sticky leather chair hearing a few pops emitting from the bones in his back. Taking a deep breath in, he thinks of how he hopes to never go back to being apart. His heart aches at the insinuation. 

A low beeping noise in his ear causes him to sit back up with a groan, sleepiness seeping into the back of his brain. 

“One second guys, my headphones are about to die.” George says into his mic. 

As he pulls off the plastic, he hears Sapnap mock in a crappy imitation of his accent, “Oh, gogster forgot to ch-” 

He rolls his eyes, but smiles despite himself. His hand instinctively reaches for the spare battery that sits to the side of his desk, only for it to be missing. He furrows his brow as he searches the surrounding area for the missing battery. Pushing his chair backwards on the carpet, he kneels on the ground searching the area under his desk. 

“What the hell.” he barely murmurs. As his hand nicks the cool, silver trash can to the side, he pulls it in front of him and begins to dig inside of it. Filled mostly with chip wrappers and empty take out containers, it leaves little mess. 

He scoffs at the battery laying at the bottom of the tin. Grabbing the headphones from around his neck, he racks his brain for possible ways that it could have gotten in the bin. His hands follow the familiar motions of changing the battery which he's done thousands of times before. The plastic slides back over his fluffy hair, and he makes a mental note to shower later as his hands feel the greasy roots. 

Still on the floor, he goes to stand up.

“-weetheart, how are you feeling?” Dream inquires to  _ someone.  _ The someone answers but he doesn't hear it through the sudden buzzing in his head.

Before he knows it, the back of his head is making heavy contact with the chunky desk above him. He swears out, loudly, consequently alerting the rest of the group of his return.

“You good, George?” Sapnap asks with little to no concern behind the question. 

_ Sweetheart.  _ he thinks with complete and utter dread. Only one person in the entire world does Dream use that pet name for. Only one person in the world is on the receiving end of the affectionate tone, sweeter than honey. Only one person. 

_ Fundy.  _ George winces. His heart beats, a sharp yet familiar pain in his chest. An anxious feeling that seems to only appear when around him, arrives expectantly, right on time, buzzing in the background. Pushed aside but  _ never _ forgotten. Still clutching the back of his head, he slowly stands up to avoid headrush, and sinks back into his chair. He’s far too uncomfortable, though he can't tell if it's because he's tired or because he knows what's coming. But he also knows that he’s lying, to dwindle the hurt. He knows exactly which one it is. 

He won't admit that to himself. 

“George?” Dream questions. George snaps back to the present and tries to calm the organ in his chest that has no regard for George's situation.

“Yeah.” He sounds flat, “I’m here.” Disconnected. 

Sapnap giggles. “What took you so long? Were you doing laps around the house? And the loud bang?” 

George seems to forget how to speak for a moment. His mouth feels incredibly dry. No amount of water would be able to diminish the sandpaper feel of his tongue. He swallows. It's desiccated.

“My Sp-” His voice cracks. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “My spare battery fell into my bin.” 

Fundy giggles. George tenses up. 

“Well good thing you found it before you threw it out!” Fundy cheerily says in the accent that just irks George. 

“Yeah.” George says unexpectedly bitter, “Good thing.” He hopes it's not too noticeable. 

“And the bang?” Dream says with clear concern edging his voice. 

George's breath hitches, too low for the mic to pick up on. He screws his eyes shut in hopes of getting rid of the butterflies. It's a trap. It always has been. The concern in his voice. It's platonic. It always has been. For George, it isn't. Dream’s harmless insinuations eat up George from the inside, and he doesn't even have a clue. Even after wishing and hoping that there was  _ something  _ hidden in his tone, it's never been anything. George has always made it up in his head. And it breaks his heart. The constant heartache is nothing new. It's a daily endeavor. It's familiar. And that isn't changing anytime soon. 

George's feelings for his best friend are completely hidden, its one of the only secrets that he has that no one knows about, not even his mother. As far as George knows, he’ll be taking this...this crush to his grave. He knows he's hopelessly in love with someone who is head over heels for another, but you don't get to  _ choose _ who you love. Even through it all, he would do anything for Dream. He’ll be the shoulder to cry on, and he’ll be the one to help him with his relationship, no matter how much it hurts. And it hurts. 

It's a silly little crush. _ It’ll go away _ . He’s gotten really good at lying to himself.

“I hit my head on my desk when I was standing up.” He says with his eyes trained upwards.

_ Just leave it at that. Just let it go. _

“Wow, Gogy, you're such a klutz!” Fundy jokes. 

George intentionally feels his face start to heat up. His blood boils ever so slightly. 

Though the intent isn't there, George feels Fundy’s words slither under his skin with malice. He tends to have that ability over George, anything he says or does rubs him the wrong way  _ every time.  _ This happens often. He finds himself despising Fundy, always looking for flaws and imperfections, ways to degrade him more. It usually doesn't work. George is simply  _ jealous. _

“Yeah..” George replies with the same flat tone as before. “I really am such a klutz.” 

_ a klutz for falling for my unavailable best friend.  _ He thinks bitterly. 

His eyes drop back to the screen in front of him, noticing that a new person is now standing with them, a figure in orange and black. The brightly colored fox stands next to the green figure with a flower in his hand. George's jaw clenches. He slides his mouse across the desk and turns away for the sickening sight in front of him. He presses down on the ‘W’ key and begins to move towards the little white building. He feels dread when he sees the pair follow him in. 

He watches a little too intensely as the fox drops a little blue flower at the feet of the green man. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” The smile is audible in dreams voice through the sickening amount of affection. George feels his stomach twist into knots. He can't help but think what it might be like to be on the receiving end of that tone. To wake up to it, to fall asleep to it, to hear it during a bad day, to simply know the tone is meant for him and only him. It hurts to know that none of this is true. It hurts to know that this will never happen.  _ It hurts.  _

Sapnap audibly swoons “Aww. You two make me sick with all your lovey-dovey crap. You’re making me miss Karl.” 

George feels sick. He hates this. This isn't anything new, he's been through all of this before. He endured just over 2 years of this. He knows the way things are. He isn't stupid, but he is no doubt a fool. 

The admission of how long this purgatory has been occurring sends a pain into his chest. His stomach continues to twist uncomfortably. His eyes flicker to the right ever so slightly when he catches his reflection in the mirror. His mouth hangs agape at the unsightly reflection.

The brown threads of hair that sit atop his head are misplaced. It simultaneously is sticking out in odd directions and flat against his scalp. His ivory skin is blotchy with patches of red blotting his cheeks like an expanse of fresh ink. His dark eyes are wide and glossy. They’re hysterical looking. He's a mess. 

He sighs a long sigh, and leans back, feeling his chest release plenty of tension. The chair he sits upon creaks ever so slightly, protesting the movement. He rubs his hands across his face in hope of wiping away the embarrassment, smoothing away his existence and disappearing into the leather folds of his chair. Sometimes he just wants to disappear. Sometimes he wants to walk away and never come back. 

He’s tired. Absolutely exhausted. Though, sleep has been a hard thing to obtain recently. Countless hours laying awake at night in the soft folds of his mattress. The cool pillow under his head would seem to be the most inviting thing, a safe haven, a place to  _ go away.  _ Though it never comes. The countless exhausting nights of tears and deep, spiraling thoughts, he all but begs for the release of sleep. A place where he can stop thinking, put everything to rest. A place that is  _ always  _ out of his reach. The thoughts in his mind are always swirling like a bathtub that won't drain, and it just keeps filling up. 

_ It's exhausting. _

__ He sighs once more before returning his attention back to the PC whining incessantly. 

“Last time I checked, you haven't made dinner more than twice since we’ve started living together” He hears Dream argue.

Sapnap scoffs. “I always get you guys-”

“Take-out doesn't count.” Dream interrupts. 

Fundy laughs somewhere in the background. “You g--”

“I think I'm gonna hop off,” George quickly interrupts.

Sapnap makes a noise of protest. “But, Gogy, whyyy.” He can just imagine the coy ‘puppy dog eyes’ he’d be making right now.

“A bit tired.” George explains shortly. “I'll talk to you guys later.”

A chorus of ‘goodbyes’ ring in his ears as he disconnects, cutting them off. 

He throws his head backwards against the headrest of his chair and rubs his eyes harshly. The action emits shapes and colors behind his lidded eyes. 

Sure, he's been doing this for over 2 years. The fact of the matter is that it doesn't seem to get any easier. 

A muffled wheeze seeps through the wall to his right. He hears joyous shouting from the other two in the house. He can only imagine what they're talking about or rather who they might be talking to. 

It makes him nauseous. 

Quite viciously, he yanks back on his headphones. The mouse in his hand navigates to a random music playlist and immediately presses play. The lyrics of the song blend together and he allows his thoughts to endlessly swirl, paying no attention to the music present in his ears. 

It's funny, really. All of this is really his own doing. He had the chances to say something, anything all those years ago, if that had truly been possible from the then shy twenty two year old. 

The thing is, George was only aware of his heart clenching feelings until it was far too late. Somehow, someway, through all the butterflies he’d get when he was flirted with, the way he would swoon at each and every compliment that was thrown his way, he was naive enough to take all the clues and throw them straight out the window, tossed aside for someone else to pick up, and someone else sure picked them up. 

Almost as if on the daily, George racks his brain for exactly  _ why.  _

_ Why  _ hadn't he said anything?

_ Why  _ did it take him so long to realize?

_ Why is he such an idiot? _

A million little questions with a million more answers that he never seems to get. It's almost as if he is the embodiment of destruction. He destroyed all his chances, he destroyed his own mind. He’s destroyed  _ everything. _

It's a fitting punishment for him to suffer through this all alone. He's stuck in his own degrading thoughts. They wrap like chains around his mind, pinching, twisting, scarring, clashing.

_ Deserving. _

His mind is a house of cards, and he's collapsing it. Over and over again. 

A two toned chime ringing throughout his room pulls him from his trance. The sticky plastic around his ears is tugged off, diminishing the unrecognizable music that was playing. As he stands, he laughs solemnly at his situation. The way he always seems to make more of the situation than what it is, how he finds the perfect way to overreact every single time.

The chuckle he emitted quickly dies off, turning the corners of his mouth downwards, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His heart beats sluggishly in his chest, a heavy contrast to the previous tempo. His hand captures the cool metal of the door handle, slightly jumping at the temperature contrasting against his burning skin. Retracing his hand, he wipes the claminess off his heat stricken palms and opens the door. 

Another high pitched sound rings throughout the house, almost impatiently. He hears the muffled voice of Sapnap, yelling out to presumably George, to answer the door. He rolls his eyes and hits his hand on Sapnap’s door, emitting a loud bang.

Ignoring the muffled voice’s response, he continues down the hallway to the stairs. As he goes down, the stairs creak in protest of his weight solely on the steps. Obnoxious knocking from the front door causes him to pick up his pace. 

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” George yells, slightly irritated. He yanks open the door to be greeted by a cheery looking woman around his age. 

She offers him an over-friendly smile. He only slightly returns it. “Package for...Nick?” 

“Yeah.” 

She hands him a small tablet for a signature. “Nice day, huh?”

He hums in agreement, nodding his head mindlessly as he jots down his name in a messy scrawl. 

The sun casts a blinding glare onto his pale skin, making him realize how long it's been since he's gone outside. He sighs at the thought, shoving it aside with the rest of them, thrown away for now.

The lady reaches forwards to collect the tablet from George's hand and in exchange hands him a rather large and heavy package, presumably some sort of set up equipment. Georges recalls Sapnap complaining about his mic setup, and guess it's most likely that. 

“Thank you.” He offers her a stiff, clearly fake smile. 

She either takes no notice or is polite enough to brush it aside. She returns his forced smile with a genuine one. 

“No problem! Have a wonderful day…” Her eyes move to the tablet. “George.” 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a crumpled twenty dollar bill and hands it over to her. Her eyes light up ever so slightly, making her impossibly joyous expression impossibly brighter. She pockets the money and graciously thanks him before walking back to the truck parked in front of the house. George's smile becomes soft, becomes real. From the door, he watches as she jumps in and basically thrusts her fists into the air. He can't help the smile that grows on his face as he laughs at the image. 

The door makes a small click as he closes it, and all the euphoria he’d just encountered slowly dissipates, like clouds would, though the sky would remain dark and gloomy. The smile he welcomed onto his face fades and leaves him with a flat expression, his hand is still on the door. 

It's times like these where he truly believes he has a chance at being happy, that there is someone out there that could be  _ enough  _ for him. Someone he would kiss goodnight, the person he’s making dinner for and eating with, watch movies with and tell stories about their days, a picture that's  _ sickenly  _ domestic. No matter how hard he tries, the face that always appears is Dreams. He used to imagine a life like this, how he’d pour his coffee in the morning and wake up in the same bed together, conversely to the life he lives now. 

George had known he liked guys when he was in eighth grade. He remembers weeping into the later hours of the night after searching the internet for answers. Those nights he would be terrified of failing his parents the guttural dread that came with every question he answered in a quiz in hopes of finding some way to explain his feelings. The first boyfriend he ever had was in 10th grade, a beautiful boy with sweet hazel eyes and glowing auburn hair. He was young enough to believe love lasts forever, quickly being proven wrong after a simple text message was sent to him, breaking his heart and spirit, making him even more terrified of labeling himself. It was that day he vowed to never be so naive. He learnt his lesson, packed his feelings in, kept them to himself, and moved on. The hurt that he felt became his everlasting night, a galaxy of self doubt and hidden emotions amongst the internalized homophobia that came from judgy peers and adults. 

Only once had he ever mentioned this solar system, some late night years ago when he still lived in Britain. When late night phone calls became a routine, and with that long, thoughtful conversations filled with sweet nothings, intimate secrets that only he and Dream shared. He barely scratched the surface at that time, and it seems the bedrock cover of this universe would forever remain unbroken, with him trapped inside like an everlasting promise. Forever unbroken as a sign of imprisonment, trapped alone in his own mind, silenced by his own thoughts, 

Shaking his mind of the swirling emotions, Georges lugs the package up the stairs. Without knocking, he walks right in and places the package on the bed. Sapnaps eyes shift over to him for a moment, before returning right back to the screen. George walks back out without a word. A whispered thank you follows him out the door, and he simply nods at the raven without making eye contact. 

As he is closing the door, out of the corner of his eye he notices the other man twist his head back to George's face. A look of confusion and concern flashes across his features as he stares at the brunette. George jolts at the fact that his mixture of emotions must be sitting loud and clear upon his face. He quickly fixes his face with a near-neutral expression, however the raven has already seen the previous expression

Sapnap gives him a look.  _ Are you okay?  _

George offers him the most genuine smile he can muster and nods. It feels awkward. 

Thankfully, Sapnap seems to take the bait and returns the older man’s ingenuine smile with a real one of his own.

George's smile slips back off his face after Sapnap turns back around. He quietly walks back into the hall and slips the door shut. He releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

It's not that he doesn't trust Sapnap, he truly does. To George, they’re like brothers, he could trust Sapnap with anything and everything. It's not the younger man's fault as to why George keeps everything in his head a secret. It's George’s fault. More specifically his past’s fault. 

It's bittersweet, really. 

Though, that's not true. It's just  _ bitter. _

After the door is closed, George wavers in front of it with his hand on the door handle. A loud laugh from the other side diminishes his hesitation and he turns away. His feet drag back to his own room and he shuts the door.

The room is noticeably dark, a huge contrast to the bright colors of the outside world. The pale blue curtains are drawn in front of the windows, blocking all light from entering, similar to George's mind, disallowing any invaders. 

He stares at the blocked windows, debating with only himself whether or not to allow the light in, a metaphor to his fortress of emotions. He ultimately decides against it. A typical decision, for George anyways. 

A curt buzzing noise rings against his desk, he picks it up, but doesn't look at the notification lighting up the screen in the darkness. The voices previously seeping through the walls have quieted down to an indistinguishable murmur. The butterflies once ticking his stomach have disappeared and been replaced with the thoughts in his head, seeping down his spine and enveloping his whole body. 

He sinks down into the mattress across from the desk. The soft sheets, which should be an invitation for soft, comfortable, peaceful sleep, seem to do the opposite. The act of sitting still encouraging a flurry of pondering. To distract himself, he logs into twitter to diminish the incessant rambling inside of his mind. 

This action proves to be contradictory. 

As he scrolls through his timeline, the first few tweets seem the same as usual. 

_ @gogygogogy1 _

_ First 3/3 dt stream in a while. Im gonna cry im so happy  _

_ #dttwt #dreamteam #gnf _

_ **** _

_ @georgeisaboomer _

_ I'm dying laughing at george hitting his head  _

_ #dttwt #dreamteam _

The next one makes his stomach turn, the unwelcome feelings returning in full throttle. 

_ @Fundyw@staken _

_ Dream and Fundy are the best couple, you can't change my mind.  _

_ #dreamteam #Fundywastaken _

He stares at the second tag. It's been a while since he’s seen tweets regarding his best friend's relationship. And for good reason, too. It almost always ends with him wallowing in whichever emotion decided to bless him with his presence. 

With hesitance, he clicks on the tag, his twitter shifting to a large portion of tweets with the hashtag. His eyes scan over the abundance of tweets. 

He continues to scroll, and the further he swipes the more he spirals. Tweets discussing their favorite moments from the pair, talking about just how perfect they are, God forbid the fanart. 

Displeased and grimacing, George throws his phone to the side, expecting it to land on the light blue comforter, but instead making a small  _ thump  _ indicating its landing place to be the carpeted floor. 

He sighs in irritation, pressing the heels of his hands into his lidded eyes. This maze of pining and longing is a never ending one, and it only seems to be getting more complex. Traps ensnare him deeper and deeper until its only darkness. Screaming out, but no sound is emitted. It is also times like these where he thinks it’ll never  _ ever _ end. It never seems to end. 

As his mind digs itself into a hole, furthering the constant whirlwind, the peaceful darkness of sleep captures his body like a blanket, and he succumbs to the exhaustion, at last. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading chapter one of 'Dangerous Illusions' I hope you enjoyed it :]  
> Yeah, its really long, but in this chapter I was hoping to set a clear base for these characters. I hope it conveyed pretty well!
> 
> Kudos are appreciated, and constructive criticism is greatly obliged. Feel free to leave any type of comment.
> 
> Check me out on twitter where I frequently tweet, @Evephobia
> 
> Till next time, Eve.


End file.
